Sweet Studies
by Paranoid Sarcasm
Summary: Hermione stared at him from across the room and exactly three rows back, it was her History of Magic tradition. HGBZ


AN: A quick author's note, I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this. All I know for certain is that I've been wanting to write a fanfic with this pairing for a while now. I hope you enjoy - and if you don't, let me know how to make it better.

Sweet Studies

Hermione stared at him from across the room and exactly three rows back, it was her History of Magic tradition. She bit her lip and felt a visible jitter run through her as he tipped his quill for more ink. Everything he did fascinated her, and that was sickening. Her situation was getting ridiculous, she always sat here because he always sat there and her seat happened to be the best vantage point to get a quick glance – or in her case, an unhealthy gawk. If she were a betting woman, she'd say he'd be able to hold an intellectual conversation and she desperately wanted to talk to someone her own age about something other that Quidditch.

This wasn't a crush. No. Hermione Granger would never get involved in something as trivial as fancying someone when she was to help save the world from the most malevolent man in centuries, that was just irresponsible. Although, with that said, that doesn't mean she couldn't look at him. It's not like a small, wee peek at another person was worthy of crucifixion.

She suppressed a sigh as he scanned the class, however his eyes swept right over her. Depressing, she thought and a sting jumped from within. It was an old sting that stung every time he ignored or missed her presence.

She fiddled with her quill between her fingertips, turning it over and over before reading her in class assignment. She added her closing sentence, neatly wrote her name on the top and she was finished.

"Done all ready?" Ron asked in bewilderment, like he does every time. "I just don't know how you do it, 'Mione. It takes me absolutely forever to get this geared up and you're already set. Just blows me away, I tell you." He gave her his crooked grin that only he could give and Hermione felt a pang. The pang, like the sting, happens often. It happens every time Ron does Ron things that used to make her giggle nervously and now just make her smile and roll her eyes. The pang had a guilty tang that liked to twist her stomach into knots. She knew what's been said through the grapevine, more or less. Everyone expects Ron and her to date then marry and then have twenty redhead children that run around and cause a ruckus. As far as she could see, it wasn't going to happen.

Harry sniggered quietly at Ron and tucked away from Hermione's swatting hand. She sighed and reread her work again before stepping into the aisle between the desks and slowly walking between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione glanced at him the very moment he looked up. He sneered and her chest clogged painfully.

Hermione stopped and turned toward him. Her work still tightly clasped in one hand, she placed the other in her hip and brushed over his assignment with her eyes. "You're wrong, you know. It's not simply the Kettlebacks fault the Great Battle of 1173 began; it's a number of species and situations that lead up to climax. Essentially, they were a scapegoat." She let a lungful of air escape and turned to hand in her assignment before her flush became obvious.

At Binns's desk, she was inwardly kicked at herself. Her legs couldn't move, she felt like hyperventilation wasn't far off. She stood for a moment, to gather her thoughts, she was sure that he thought she was a know-it-all like all the others. Not that she minded, she quite liked knowing everything; it was just the label she wasn't fond of. It made her seem utterly unapproachable.

Hermione sucked in a swift breath, deciding to get through it quickly, like a bandage. She walked past his desk without looking at him, and suddenly felt a pull toward him. Literally. Her eyes flicked down to her wrist and she noted a hand grasping, she turned to face him.

"Thanks Granger." He muttered and locked eyes with her. Her stomach began to bubble, but in a fantastic way that made her want smile giddily and sway slightly. But she didn't give anything away, she kept her face masked, save for her raised eyebrows.

She let a tiny smirk slid onto her lips as he let go, "Anytime Zabini."


End file.
